"Kristine Kathryn Rusch - Black Throne 02 - The Black King" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rusch Kristine Kathryn)

“You looked strange for a moment.”
“I always look strange.” He kissed her again, lightly, then headed toward the hold.
As he stepped into the large deckhouse, he nodded at one of the Nyeians braiding rope.
This ship carried a larger crew than most ships, and it seemed as if most of the crew did
nothing. But they were there for an emergency.
Gift had a cache of Weather Sprites to bring storms or to hold them back, five
Navigators whose services he would probably need in a few moments, and a large group
of Sailors to get him through the Guardians. Those were all magical Fey. Then there were
the Tashil and Nyeian crew who actually tacked the sails and swabbed the decks, and did
all the necessary manual labor. They had carried the bulk of the work on this trip.
The Bird Riders he had with him were also necessary for long ocean voyages. Most of
the Riders he had were Gull Riders, although he had a few Hawk Riders for their strength
and a few scattered Bird Riders from Sparrows to Pigeons to Robins who had come to him
from various places on Etanien, all carrying messages from Seger.
Seger was a Healer who had served Gift’s Fey great-grandfather, whom Gift’s Islander
father had eventually defeated in battle fifteen years before. Seger had proven loyal to
Gift and his family by saving the life of Sebastian, a Golem that Gift considered to be his
real brother.
Now Seger served as Arianna’s Healer and sometimes advisor. The fact that Seger had
sent for Gift—and by more than one messenger—told him that things were very bad
indeed.
He was the Heir to Arianna’s throne because, like him, she had never married and had
no children. If they both died, the Black Throne would revert to his grandfather’s oldest
son, Bridge, whom his grandfather and great-grandfather had never trusted. That was on
the Fey side.
On the Islander side, things were worse. If Gift and Arianna died without issue, the
throne would go to someone who wasn’t a direct descendent of the Isle’s Roca.
Gift climbed down the steps, past the lower decks his hands on the rope railing. The
steps became a rope ladder on the last part of the descent leading him into the darkness
of the hold.
When he reached the bottom, he hurried down the narrow corridor to the mess hall.
He pushed open the door to find the five Riders he had sent out. They were naked and in
their Fey forms, their bird selves subsumed into their torsos. But they still had the look of
birds. Their hair grew in a light feathery pattern down their backs and their noses curved
like beaks.
The ship’s captain, Wave—a Sailor who, at a hundred, had decided he was too old to
send his consciousness into the sea—leaned against the wall. His powerful arms, tattooed
in the L’Nacin tradition, were crossed against his chest and Gift could tell from the
expression on his face that the news was bad.
“Well?” Gift asked.
One of the Gull Riders, a woman named Uhgse, looked over at him. Her dark eyes
were beady.
“There’s a lot of chop,” she said, “and eddies that actually form holes in the surface of
the water. The waves are hitting the stone at an incredible height. There’s no clear way
for the ship to make it through.”
“It’d be like sailing in a hurricane,” said Abdal, another of the Gull Riders.
But there was one Gull Rider Gift had come to trust more than the others. “Ace? What
do you think?”
Ace, whose real name was Graceful, had taken one of the Domestic-spelled towels and
was drying his hair. He stopped when Gift spoke to him.